Межзвёздный скиталец

           WhenIthinkbackatall,ratherdoIthinkfarbacktomychildhoodattheskirtsofmymilk-skinned,flaxen-haired,buxomEnglishmother.Itisatinyvillageofadozenstraw-thatchedcottagesinwhichIlived.Ihearagainblackbirdsandthrushesinthehedges,andseeagainbluebellsspillingoutfromtheoakwoodsandoverthevelvetturflikeacreamingofbluewater.AndmostofallIrememberagreat,hairy-fetlockedstallion,oftenleddancing,sidling,andnickeringdownthenarrowstreet.Iwasfrightenedofthehugebeastandalwaysfledscreamingtomymother,clutchingherskirtsandhidinginthemwhereverImightfindher.

           Butenough.ThechildhoodofAdamStrangisnotwhatIsetouttowrite.

           Ilivedforseveralyearsontheislandswhicharenamelesstome,anduponwhichIamconfidentIwasthefirstwhiteman.IwasmarriedtoLei-Lei,theking’ssister,whowasafractionoversixfeetandonlybythatfractiontoppedme.Iwasasplendidfigureofaman,broad-shouldered,deep-chested,well-set-up.Womenofanyrace,asyoushallsee,lookedonmewithafavouringeye.Undermyarms,sun-shielded,myskinwasmilk-whiteasmymother’s.Myeyeswereblue.Mymoustache,beardandhairwerethatgolden-yellowsuchasonesometimesseesinpaintingsofthenorthernsea-kings.Ay—Imusthavecomeofthatoldstock,long-settledinEngland,and,thoughborninacountrysidecottage,theseastillransosaltinmybloodthatIearlyfoundmywaytoshipstobecomeasea-cuny.